A Second Chance at Eden (28 page)

I should tell her, Amanda thought. A viral squirt was a terrible thing to use against innocent people. But I can’t be certain she’s telling the truth, a woman who thinks Jews are a plague.

‘No. Why, should I have?’

‘He killed one of our pursuit dogs a couple of kilometres south of your track. But he was hurt in the fight. Can’t have got far.’

‘OK. We’ll keep watch for him.’

The hound had wandered over to the big patch of wet ground outside the kitchen door.

‘Right.’ Derry pursed her lips, suspicious and ill at ease. ‘What about you, Jew girl? You seen him? He’s a Muslim, you know, one of the Legion.’

‘No. I haven’t seen anybody.’

‘Huh. Bloody typical, don’t know crap about anything, you people. OK, I don’t suppose you’d harbour a towel-head anyway.’

‘If you’re a Christian, why have you got an affinity-bonded dog? I thought the Pope banned the faithful from using the bond over a century ago.’

The hound raised its head swiftly, swinging round to look at Jane. The lips parted again, allowing long strands of gooey saliva to drip onto the soil.

‘Don’t push your luck. The only reason you’re not under arrest right now is because I don’t want to waste taxpayers’ money on you. You get back on that road when you’re done here, head for your precious Tasmal.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Derry snorted contemptuously. ‘Take my advice, Amanda Foxon, kick this thieving rabble off your land the second your crop’s picked. And next year, hire some decent Christians. Get in touch with the Union, they have plenty of honest casual labourers on their books.’

‘I’ll remember what you said.’

If Sergeant Derry was aware of the irony, she didn’t show it. She pulled on her reins, wheeling the big stallion round. The hound trotted out of the gate ahead of the horses.

Amanda realized she was sweating, muscles down the back of her legs twitched as if she’d just run to town and back. Jane patted her gently.

‘Not bad for an amateur rebel. You faced her down.’

Guy pressed himself to her side, and hugged her waist. ‘She was horrid, Mum.’

‘I know. Don’t worry, she’s gone now.’

‘But she’ll be back,’ Jane muttered. ‘Her kind always are. Your file’s in her memory now.’

‘She’ll have no reason to come back,’ Amanda said. She handed Guy over to Lenny, then went back into the farmhouse.

Blake was helping Fakhud to limp up the stairs from the cellar. Both of them were shivering.

‘Did you give people cancer?’

Fakhud drew a strained breath as he reached the top of the stairs. ‘Is that what the police said?’

‘Yes.’

‘They lied. I oppose many issues on this planet, but I am not a monster. I would not use weapons like that. Do you know why?’

‘Tell me.’

‘Because we have children, too. If the Legion started a terror campaign of that nature, others would begin similar campaigns against us.’

‘They already are. All of you are fighting each other. All you maniacs.’

‘Yes. But not like that, not yet. So far we confine ourselves to sabotage and assassinations of key opponents. Allah grant that it does not move beyond that. If it does, we shall all suffer; this whole world will drown in pain.’

‘
Why?
Why do you do this?’

‘To defend ourselves. To defend our way of life. Just as you would do if anything threatened this farm. We have the right to do that, to resist Govcentral’s imperialism.’

‘Just go,’ she said. Tears of frustration were swelling behind her eyes. ‘Go, and don’t come back.’

The pick-up was loaded with boxes of apples for one of its regular runs to the station in Knightsville. At the same time, several of the male pickers went in and out of the house, all of them wearing wide-brimmed sunhats which obscured their faces. Fakhud, dressed in Lenny’s clothes, emerged and went over to the van. He lay in a coffin-sized gap between the boxes, while more were stacked over him.

Blake drove away as the sun was less than an hour from the mountains. Amanda tried not to show any concern, keeping the rest of the farm’s activities normal. The pickers remained out in the orchard, working until dusk. Their evening meal was prepared on the large solar accumulator grill in the barn. Everyone had their shower then sat around in the farmyard until the food was cooked.

Amanda stood beside the gate to eat her chicken wing. From there she would be able to see the van’s headlights as it returned along the track. If Blake had kept to his schedule, he should have been back forty minutes ago.

Guy climbed up the low wall and sat on top, his skinny legs dangling over the other side. ‘’I didn’t like today,’ he said solemnly.

She leant forward against the wall, and put her arm round his shoulder. ‘Me neither.’

‘Was that fat woman really a police officer?’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

‘She didn’t like anybody. Are all police officers like that?’

‘No. You don’t have to be a police officer to hate other kinds of people. Everybody on Nyvan does it.’

‘Everybody?’

‘Well, too many of us, anyway.’

‘Why?’

‘There’s a lot of reasons. But mainly because Govcentral is forcing different kinds of people to live next to each other. They do it because they think it’s fair, that people should be treated equally. Which they should be, I’m not complaining about that. The problem is, the immigrants aren’t used to other cultures.’

‘But they all get on together on Earth.’

‘They get on together in different arcologies; they might be on the same planet, but they’re all segregated. And the people who come here to Nyvan, especially now, are the poor ones. They don’t have much education so they’re very set in their ways, very stubborn, and not very tolerant.’

‘What do you mean, now? Haven’t poor people always come here? I remember Father telling me Grandpa didn’t have any money when he arrived.’

‘That’s true, but Grandpa wanted to come. He was a pioneer who wanted to build a fresh world for himself. Most of the people of that time were. That’s changed now.’ She pointed up at the night sky. ‘See those stars up there? Their planets aren’t like Nyvan. The new colony worlds have ethnic streaming policies; they’re all sponsored by different Govcentral states, so the only people you get emigrating to them are the ones from the same arcology. As they’re all the same to start with, they don’t quarrel so much.’

‘Then why are people still coming here?’

‘Because Earth is so overcrowded, and we’re close to it, only seventeen light-years away. That makes travelling here one of the cheapest starflights possible. So Govcentral sends us all the people who can’t afford to pay the passage to another planet, all the unemployed and petty criminals, people who never really wanted to come here in the first place.’

‘Can’t we stop them from doing that?’ he asked indignantly. ‘This is our planet. Won’t Govcentral wreck it?’

‘We can’t stop Earth dumping people on us because Govcentral is our government, too. Although a lot of people think it shouldn’t be. That’s another big part of the problem. Nobody here can agree on anything any more.’

‘Can’t we go to an ethnic streaming world? A Nyvanethnic one, like it was before?’

Amanda was glad of the night, it meant her son couldn’t see the tears forming in her eyes. That one innocent child’s question reducing her every accomplishment to nothing. Three generations of labour, sacrifice, and pride had bequeathed him this farm. And for what? She couldn’t even call it an island of sanctuary from the madness which raged all around. Today had extinguished that illusion.

‘There aren’t any Nyvan-ethnic worlds, Guy,’ she said slowly. ‘Only us. We’re just going to have to stay and make the best of it.’

‘Oh. All right.’ He studied the gleaming constellations. ‘Which one is Earth?’

‘I don’t know. I never thought it was very important to find out.’ She gave the darkened hills one last look. There was no sign of the pick-up van returning. The bleak depression inside her was threatening to become outright despair. Not even Blake would be so stupid as to go with Fakhud, surely? Though the alternative was even worse, that Sergeant Derry had caught them.

Please let it be a puncture, or a shorted power cell, she prayed. Somewhere in the soft night air she thought she heard a mocking laugh. It was probably just an echo inside her own skull.

Amanda woke before dawn, puzzled at the silence. It was a subliminal warning of wrongness, nothing she could actually name. She also missed Blake’s weight at her side. When she went into his room, he wasn’t there either. His bed hadn’t been used.

The wood-burning range stove in the kitchen was almost out. Amanda had to fight against the instinct to load it immediately. Instead, she pulled her house coat tight and hurried out into the farmyard. The pick-up van hadn’t returned.

She closed her eyes and cursed. Blake had gone for good. No use trying to kid herself about that any more. He believed a politician’s promise, that their way is better than ours. Fool, stupid country boy fool.

Now she would have to find a replacement, which wouldn’t be easy in these times. For all her exasperation with him, he’d been a good worker. It was a rare quality in today’s young men.

She walked towards the long barn as the sun began to rise over the horizon. A heavy dew had given the joycevine leaves a mantle of grey sparkles. The grill was still sending out small wisps of smoke from last night’s fats, mingling with the thin strands of mist layering the air.

Jane or one of the others would have to drive her into Knightsville to recover the pick-up. Assuming Blake had left it at the station.

It was when she reached the end of the barn that Amanda realized what had been bothering her since she awoke. Silence. Total silence. The pickers had gone.

Amanda ran into the centre of the small paddock where their vehicles had been parked. ‘No!’ She turned a complete circle, trying hopelessly to spot the collection of cars and trucks they’d arrived in.

But they must have left hours ago. Their departure hadn’t even left any tyre tracks in the dew.

‘You can’t!’ she yelled at the narrow brown track which wound away from the farm. ‘You can’t leave. I haven’t even paid you.’ It wouldn’t matter to them, she knew; money versus Sergeant Derry focusing her interest and attention on their group.

Amanda sank to her knees amid the damp fur of the grass-analogue. She started sobbing as the dark fear rose to claim her thoughts. Fear of the future. Fear for Guy.

The sun rose steadily, banishing the sheets of gossamer mist which lurked among the orchards. Under its growing warmth, the rich crop of apples turned yet another shade darker as they waited for the hands of the pickers.

2267–2270
    Eight separate skirmishes involving use of antimatter among colony worlds. Thirteen million killed.

2271
    Avon summit between all planetary leaders. Treaty of Avon, banning the manufacture and use of antimatter throughout inhabited space. Formation of Human Confederation to police agreement. Construction of Confederation Navy begins.

2300
    Confederation expanded to include Edenists.

2301
    First Contact. Jiciro race discovered, a pre-technology civilization. System quarantined by Confederation to avoid cultural contamination.

2310
    First ice asteroid impact on Mars.

2330
    First blackhawks gestated at Valisk, independent habitat.

3350
    War between Novska and Hilversum. Novska bombed with antimatter. Confederation Navy prevents retaliatory strike against Hilversum.

2356
    Kiint homeworld discovered.

2357
    Kiint join Confederation as ‘observers’.

2360
    A voidhawk scout discovers Atlantis.

2371
    Edenists colonize Atlantis.

Laurus is ensconced in the Regency elegance of his study, comfortable in his favourite leather chair, looking out at the world through another set of eyes. The image is coming from an affinity bond with his eagle, Ryker. A silent union produced by the neuron symbionts rooted in his medulla, which are attuned to their clone analogues in Ryker, feeding him the bird’s sensorium clear and bright.

He enjoys the sensations of freedom and power he obtains from flying the big bird, they’re becoming an anodyne to his own ageing body with its white hair and weakening muscles. A decay which is defeating even Tro-picana’s biomedical skills. Ryker, however, possesses a nonchalant virility, a peerless lord of the sky.

With wings outstretched to its full three-metre span, the duality is riding the thermals high above Kariwak. Midday heat has shrouded the coastal city in a pocket of doldrum-calm air, magnifying the teeming convoluted streets below. This is the eastern quarter, the oldest human settlement on Tropicana, where the palm-thatched bungalows cluster scant metres above the white sands of Almond Beach. Laurus is looking down on the familiar pattern of white-washed walls crusted with a tideline of ebony solar panels. Each has a petite garden of magical colour enclosed by fences long since buried under flowering creepers, all of them locked together like the tiles on some abstract rainbow mosaic. Behind the bungalows, the streets become more ordered, the buildings sturdier. Tall trees cluster at the centre of brick-paved squares, while the pavements are lined with market barrows, channelling the dense flow of bicycles, pedestrians, horses, and carriages. No cars or taxis are permitted here, they lack the necessary grace to gain membership of such a rustic environment.

The snow-white bitek coral walls of the two-kilometre-wide harbour basin glare with a near painful intensity under the scalding sun. From Ryker’s viewpoint the harbour looks like a perfectly circular crater. Its western half has bitten a chunk out of the city, allowing a dense stratum of warehouses, commercial plazas, and boatyards to spring up along its boundary. The eastern half extends out into the flawless turquoise sea, deflecting the gentle ripples which roll in from the massive shallow ocean that occupies ninety-five per cent of Tropicana’s surface. Wooden quays sprout from the harbour’s inner rim, home to hundreds of fishing ketches and private yachts. Trading sloops that cruise the archipelago for exotic cargo are gliding over the clean water as they visit the commercial section.